


when the party's over

by Misguidedghost08



Series: Broken Butch [1]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Possible Character Death, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misguidedghost08/pseuds/Misguidedghost08
Summary: "Hey, it's Butch.You are probably wondering why I wrote this. The truth is that I'm not sure, maybe the end of my life is coming and I'm getting ready, who knows".
Relationships: Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Series: Broken Butch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006134
Kudos: 5





	when the party's over

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [When The Party's Over.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/711037) by MisguidedGhost08. 



> This is the first story of a series called "Broken Butch". It's a translation so i'm really sorry if I wrote something wrong, I wrote this originally in spanish :( (u can check it in Fanfiction).
> 
> It's based on Billie Eillish's song: "when the party's over".

Hey, it's Butch.

You are probably wondering why I wrote this. The truth is that I'm not sure, maybe the end of my life is coming and I'm getting ready, who knows. Sometimes I would like to predict the future just to know if my days are counted, and that I am not as immortal as I thought I was. Or it may just be an unconscious wish of me being taken by death.

Death, the Grim Reaper, Thanatos according to the Greeks ... I love the fact that such a natural event receives so many names and becomes so divine. It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Something that comes to all of us but that most of us fear, it is funny how we try to escape from the hands of the Moiras.

I think we are the only ones who don't have a destiny, because, well, we are not human.

Brick would probably kill me if he read this, but sometimes I wish I was a mortal. More than anything. I would like to feel worthy of my feelings and the good things that happen to me, or to stop denying absolutely everything. Maybe if I were a human I wouldn't be that miserable and feared, I could live a quiet life with the American dream.

But sadly, I am not. It is not very difficult for me to assume it, I guess I have been thinking about it all my life. I never saw myself as anything other than a fucking demon destined to live in evil. That's why I get high, you know, I think it's the only thing that makes me feel otherwise, even though I usually need a dose enough to dope a mammoth to feel that way.

Fuck Buttercup, I'm sorry. Really.

I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. But I am very tired of myself, I am tired of seeing myself in the mirror every day and hating myself with all my might. I'm sick of feeling like this, drowning all the time, floating in the same nothingness, always unsatisfied. I would like to be happy for a moment and not because I was involved in illegal substances, you know?

And, really, I congratulate you. You've been my drug for quite some time, you've made me the happiest young man in this whole shitty city. But things don't last for too long, and even though I still love you more than words can explain, things have changed; because I don't think you deserve someone like me. I think you deserve someone to take you out of the shitty place where you are, and I can't. Damn it, Butterbabe, I can barely get out myself, how am I going to get all the bad thoughts that you have out of you?

It gives me a big impotence telling you this because my biggest dream is us being together and happy with five hundred children (if you want to), but sometimes you have to give up what makes you happy for something better, right? I know at least you can get it, you are very strong and brave darling, I know you are.

You are probably insulting me a lot for having written this kind of… suicide note, but this is the reality. And it hurts, I don't deny it, but don't you know I'm not good for you? I suppose so, they have told you. I'm going to send you to the depths of the abyss, and no matter how hard-headed you are, I won't drag you there. Damn, Buttercup, I tore my shirt and soul to stop you bleeding.

You calm down, I've learned to lose. I can't allow myself to hold on to things that won't last, nothing prevents the lost no matter how much people talk. All fates are written, except ours.

But I do want to write mine.

Do I want to die? I don't know if those are the words. I guess all I want is to rest and having all the pain away. May all my sorrows escape through my tears. I want to be calm, shit, I want to be happy for once in my life. I want to feel the light in all of my darkness. And, if death is really going to be the only one that gives me that relief, then I'll be waiting for it. It's a little bit sad, right? It is what was chosed to me.

Nothing is better, sometimes.

Fuck this really hurts.

Sometimes I think that my life is a party, for a point quite different from what many think. When we go to one, the first thing we think about is euphoria, happiness and chaos; then everything starts to go out of control and it turns out that we let go all of our emotions. Even if the party doesn't end with someone at the hospital or with the police knocking on the door, there will always be some sad person who, no matter how he looks, does not want to be there, does not feel well there.

When this letter reaches you and we've finally said goodbye, we're just going to let it go. Let me forget about you, baby, because if I continue here dying alive by your side, everything will become more desperate. And, I repeat, it is not because of you, you make me very happy, you make me the happiest; but there is something here that doesn't let me think and I don't want it to affect you too. I want you to be okay, even if you have to do it without me.

Stop complaining, don't you know too much already? I tried to kill you a few times as kids, if you leave me the only thing I'm going to do is hurt you. I don't want that, not anymore. I'd rather have Him ripping out my intestines and hanging me with them than have to watch you suffer for a second.

You've made me a sensitive bitch, heh.

I'll see how to tell my brothers about my situation, I hope they are less sunked in shit than I am. I know they have had their conflicts, I saw Boomer very badly since what happen to your sister and Brick is a fucking ball of nerves (he always been like that but now more). I don't want to worry them really, but I need them more than I would like; I love those sons of bitches with all my heart, even if it doesn't seem like it. It's my family, I guess. The closest thing to it that I have.

We are broken, but we function well.

I guess they love me just the same, right? I want to believe it. That idea usually consoles me when I come to my house, which is completely empty, and all I hear is silence with all the noise in my head interrupting. The thoughts become very strong, almost like you hear them clearly. And that's when it happens.

I could lie and say that I like it like that, you know, to be rude.

Ugh, how hard it becomes to write this. I have never been very wordy. It's okay that I write songs but these texts are difficult for me because putting my ideas in line is complicated enough.

.

.

.

I cried the other day, you know?

Long enough for my breathing to fail me.

I was, somewhat, desperate.

.

.

.

I love you, Buttercup.

And I don't want to be away from you, honestly.

So do me a little favor, as this is also very difficult for me.

Call me friend, or foe, but keep me closer.

_**I'll call you when the party is over.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like the story! You can find me on Instagram with the same name: Misguidedghost08.
> 
> And please, check your mental health. If you're not okay, search for help. Stay Alive.
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
